


Dead Padawan Society: Apprentices Old and New

by Basingstoke



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-31
Updated: 2000-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:40:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For more Dead Padawan Society stories, visit the archive: <a href="http://www.ravenswing.com/DPS">www.ravenswing.com/DPS</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Padawan Society: Apprentices Old and New

My padawan burns with the scent of wood and tar and the overwhelming stench of charred flesh.  That is his shame.  When he died, he was not sufficiently advanced to commit his body to the Force.

I have no grief for Qui-Gon.

My other padawan died in a melting pit.  We recovered nothing of his body, but I can't feel his presence in the Force any longer. He's dead but I don't know quite how he died.  I suppose I could ask Obi-Wan...

I have no grief for Maul either.

Maul was useful but too flawed to take over my plans.  Distorted in body and mind.  I'll do better with the next one; I'll raise him not with computers and holograms but with my own two hands, and Obi-Wan will help.  

Obi-Wan stands straight and unwavering by the pyre, screaming inside. Because I've never reacted he thinks I can't see into his thoughts. I can.  I know what he had with his master, against all custom and rule--this is why we forbid it, child.   They never learn until it's too late.  I am very pleased.

Very pleased.

The child stands behind him, thinking only of himself, as children do. He has so much power within him that I can barely stand the thought of waiting to use it, but I am very old and have had much practice in patience. I can wait until the time is right.  I can let Obi-Wan do much of the work for me.  The demons in his head are fierce and strong--if only he had been faster, if only he had been bolder, if only he had died instead of his master and lover--if I only leave them to fester and pour poison into his mind, he will poison Anakin all by himself.  

Mace leans down to me.  "There is no doubt, the mysterious warrior was a Sith."

I stop to think for a moment--his language still does not come to me easily.  "Always two there are, no more, no less.  A master and an apprentice."

"But which one was destroyed, the master or the apprentice?"

He has no way of knowing.  I have many ways of keeping him from finding out.  I cloak myself in holograms when I make appearances in person, so that anyone looking at me will see a human Senator, not an ancient Jedi master.   There is no physical record of my activities anywhere, and no memory record now that Maul is dead.  I am invisible and silent as I have been for hundreds of years.

I look at Anakin, my precious desert jewel.  Bless my Jedi padawan for bringing a vergence to me.  If I can twist his hairy head, then he'll be more powerful than both my apprentices.

He's halfway there already; hurt and confusion turn to rage so easily. He just needs time and work to embrace the Dark Side.  I have an abundance of both.  

The scent of scorched skin and cooked meat fill my nostrils as I consider the future.

end.

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all feedback, criticism, flames are welcome


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